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“You’re with me.”

“No.”

I look at her.

She looks right back.

I hate how much I like that.

“Mercy’s place is compromised,” I say. “Your car had a tracker and a Reaper mark. Wherever you’ve been sleeping is probably compromised too.”

Her face changes just enough to tell me motel before she opens her mouth.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you figured out where I’ve been staying and already hate it.”

“I don’t hate motels.”

“You hate mine, and you don’t even know which one it is.”

“I hate anything with outside doors, bad locks, and a clerk named Donnie who can be bribed with twenties and chew tobacco.”

Her eyebrows pull together. “His name is Ronnie.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I didn’t pick it for the security.”

“No, you picked it because it was cheap, close to the school, and the kind of place a woman running from trouble thinks no one will notice her.”

She goes still.

Mercy says my name in warning. “Bitter.”

I know I pushed too hard. My fear has never had manners.

“Am I wrong?”

Sweet’s mouth tightens. “No.”

That one honest word guts me worse than another lie would’ve.

I take a breath and force my voice down. “We’ll get your things. Ghoul and Nevermore with us. Then you sleep somewhere Razor can’t reach.”

“Where?”

“With me.”

She laughs once, and it ain’t a happy sound.

“No.”